


Her Majesty

by Sawsbuck Coffee (RosesAndTheInternet)



Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:52:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosesAndTheInternet/pseuds/Sawsbuck%20Coffee
Summary: Sybil Mira is hopelessly in love with her queen and pretending like it doesn't matter to her. She is stronger than a few uncomfortable, but insignificant, emotions and was able to hide them flawlessly, no matter what Aimery said.





	Her Majesty

_Radiant, absolutely radiant, completely effervescent, breathtaking,_ ****_cosmic._  
Yes, that is exactly what Sybil Mira thought of her queen and that is what she would think always, with or without her glamor. Her queen could capture the heart of any Earthen that she pleased, of most Lunars and Sybil was no exception. There was nothing in the galaxy that she wouldn’t do for her queen and not just because she was her loyal head thaumaturge. Yes, Sybil Mira had fallen head over heels in love with the queen of Luna and she had no idea what the hell she was supposed to do about it.  
She hid it well enough; tried to ignore the way that her heart jumped into her throat every time the queen looked at her, pushed it down so far that even the most talented lunar (her queen, of course) wouldn’t be able to sense it. Sybil presses her feelings behind her steely eyes, and her perfectly white teeth, and between her capable fingers. But try as she might the love she has for her stays lodged in her throat.

Sybil did not use her glamor to make large alterations to her looks, just little improvements here and there; but the way that her queen’s eyes swept over her, so cold and unreadable, made her wish to make herself into a different person entirely. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt the strong urge to close her eyes so that she doesn’t have to see her queen’s sharp, scathing eyes, amber today, pierce her as if she can see everything that Sybil has gone to such great lengths to hide.  
She is speaking to them both now; Sybil and Aimery, but her eyes never leave Sybil for a moment. They’re dismissed from the lookout tower, one of the queen’s favorite places in the palace. In the elevator, made completely of glass, Aimery turns to her with that smile on his face, the one that usually means he’s about to do something horrible.  
“So,” he says, “are you planning to stage a coup?”  
Sybil inhales sharply at the question and turns on him, hands curled beneath her sleeves. “I would never-!”  
He holds his hand up, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I was kidding.” He rolls his eyes and his smile grows a little wider. Aimery is always smiling, as long as she’s known him he has always been terribly even tempered even when faced with the worst of things. It was as impressive as it was unnerving.  
Aimery is as aware as Sybil that she has violently stopped several hostile takeovers, nipping some in the bud before the offenders could even reach the castle gates. Sybil has literally devoted her whole life to Queen Levana; more willing to live and die for her than most of the guards around here and probably most of the thaumaturges too, Aimery thinks. But there is something very off about her, especially lately.  
“So what ever might be the problem, Sy?” Sybil and Aimery are always around the queen, where she goes they go and even on Luna they never stray far from where she is. As such, they are always around each other as well, they have been for many, many years now. One might even consider them friends.  
Sybil rolls her eyes, “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”  
Aimery has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, “Right, so the nervous energy rippling off of you is just my imagination then?”  
“You’re not making any sense.” Sybil deadpans  
“You’re a terrible liar, Sybil.” The doors to the elevator open and Aimery slips out of the elevator and down another hallway before she can get over her shock. 

Sybil thinks that is she just lies, to herself, to Aimery, to everyone, then eventually it will all become true. Aimery was wrong, she was a great liar. She certainly didn’t need his negativity making her think otherwise.  
Negative.  
_Aimery._  
The thought was a little bit funny. The man was unnervingly affable, like his life was one long diplomatic mission. But Sybil liked him anyways; she knew a good thaumaturge when she saw one, and even better, a good friend. Not that she would ever tell him such, Sybil did have a reputation to uphold after all.  
Not that Aimery didn’t know anyways, or that he didn’t feel exactly the same. They’d been friends for almost sixteen years, ever since Sybil became a red coated thaumaturge. He was her competition once, but he was also the best and only friend she’d ever had.  
She becomes hopelessly restless; after all, forgetting about her feelings was far more easily said than done. Especially when Sybil’s sole purpose in life was to be at her queen’s side. That made throwing herself into work not an option. She still wouldn’t tell Aimery what was going on with her no matter how much he pressed, week after week of being annoyingly relentless in attempting to figure out what her problem was. But she was beginning to think that there might be something really wrong with her. Her heart fluttered every time she saw her queen, tripped on beats when she looked at her, she couldn’t hardly sleep at night and when she could she woke up in a cold sweat most nights on the heels of very disquieting dreams. All of it was beginning to take its toll on her, making her even more exhausted than she was usually. At least that was a good kind of tired, finding purpose in hard work, never begrudging the difficult, stressful, sort of thankless work that came with being head thaumaturge. After all, the job was more than just power and glory; it was an honor and not at all for the lazy or faint of heart. For Sybil, the job was a lifetime of dedication coming to fruition, and all of it was all that she’d ever wanted.  
All of that was just fine, she was always tired but that was fine. What was not fine was pacing around her bedroom in the earliest hours of the morning after waking up from one of those deeply unsettling dreams. Unsettling in the sense that they were unusual and of a romantic nature that Sybil was not familiar with in any way. But of course, Sybil would much rather carry on pretending like that wasn’t happenin;, like she wasn’t up almost all night last night, getting only an hour or so of sleep because of another one of those awful dreams. It wasn’t suitable for someone like her to think about her queen like that and it was only making her even more stressed out about the whole ordeal. Sybil loves her queen, but she is terrified of being in love with her. Sybil has never been in love with anyone before; devoting her entire life to her place as a thaumaturge doesn’t bode well for romance, not that she’s ever minded before. The closest she’s ever come is Aimery, her best friend whom she adores and is very close to, no matter how much they both hide their affection for each other behind smirks, eye rolls, and cynicism.  
She’ll keep this charade up forever if that is what has to be done, but it’s exhausting. Sybil is still holding out on the hope that she might just stop feeling this way at some point, that if she ignores it then it will fade with time. Maybe it would if she had both time and distance; but she is never away from her queen for very long, always at her side and in truth she wouldn’t have it any other way. But she’ll continue to hide what she feels until eventually it fades, and Sybil is quite sure that it will fade.  
She has always had more willpower than feelings anyways. 

The view of Artemisia is beautiful from the Solar; the pristine, modern and yet artistic buildings, the dome’s edge in the distance, the rest of the palace below. Sybil thinks that there is no place in the galaxy that could compare to this palace, to this city. And yet it all pales in comparison to the queen of it all. Sybil watches her queen admire the city from her throne out of the corner of her eye, wishing that her heart wouldn’t beat so quick nor her cheeks flush. She’s frankly doing a piss poor job of the whole ignoring all of her feelings thing, but she really is endlessly enchanted by her queen’s beauty. The light catches her hair in such a way and her dress suits her so nicely and really anyone would stare, I mean how could she not stare. Maybe it’s all just glamor, but Sybil honestly thinks that glamor or no glamor Queen Levana is the most beautiful person that she has ever seen.  
“Sybil,” her queen says, breaking the silence that had been hanging between them since they came up here. She stares out the glass in front of her throne without a reflection obstructing the view of their shining capital.  
She has to tense every muscle in her body to keep herself from starting. “Yes, your majesty?” her voice does not waver, it is exactly as it should be. All is exactly as it should be. She summons her glamor to mask the blush that had manifested on her face come time ago.  
“Come here.” Queen Levana beckons Sybil to her side. Sybil tucks her portscreen away in her sleeve and ascends the steps, hiding her hands inside of her sleeves. Sybil isn’t a nervous fidgeting, usually. But it certainly doesn’t hurt to have long, billowing sleeves to hide her hands, among other things, in.  
“I have known you for a very long time, Sybil.” The queen does not look at her as she comes to a stop by her side, staring out the window. “I can tell when something is the matter.”  
_Fuck._  
“Nothing is the matter, my queen,” Sybil says stiffly, ignoring the awful pressure building in her throat.  
The queen narrows her eyes, very dark brown today but still holding the same light that they always to. Her red lips pinch into a frown as she turns her head to face her head thaumaturge. Very real fear courses through her, she squeezes her forearms inside her sleeves; she doesn’t feel the queen inside her head but that doesn’t mean much. “Don’t lie to me like that, ever.”  
Sybil bites down on her tongue, forcing her feelings even further down. Levana reaches up takes Sybil’s chin her hand and Sybil leans down, gingerly placing her hands on the throne’s armrest to steady herself. Her glamor hides her blush but it can’t hide the way that her mouth goes dry and she tenses even more, her body feeling more like a tightly coiled spring than flesh and bone. Her heart pounds in her chest so loudly that her queen must be able to hear it, must have figured it out by now. Part of her, a very small and very weak part, wants to break down crying. It hurts so much and it hurts more having to just pretend like there is nothing there at all to be at her side every day and simply say nothing. Instead she forces those feelings away and reminds herself just how cold she is, how cold everyone thinks she is and not without reason.  
The queen examines her face with a slight smirk. “You’re very beautiful, Sybil, naturally I suppose, or very talented with your gift.”  
“Both, your majesty, if you don’t mind me saying.”  
“Not at all. Both of those things are true.” Levana swipes the pad of her thumb along Sybil’s cheek and her breath catches again. It’s embarrassing, the ridiculous schoolgirl crush that she has, and the way that just can’t seem to shake it.  
Levana smirks, “Now answer me, pretty one, you’re not one to lose yourself over small things, so what has happened to make my head thaumaturge so unsteady.”  
_It is small_ , Sybil thinks, _it is not of any importance at all._ “I-It is of a personal matter, my queen. Nothing of any importance to you.”  
“If my most trusted thaumaturge is out of focus then it does become important to me.”  
There is no getting out of this. She is going to find out and it’s going to ruin me.  
Levana’s face is close to hers, her eyes scrutinizing every detail, trying to pick her apart before Sybil can speak. Her scarlet lips part slightly and Sybil waits for her to speak with bated breath.  
But then Aimery appears from the elevator and the moment is gone. 

“What was that anyways?”Aimery says much later, away from prying eyes and ears in the relative safety of Sybil’s own quarters in the palace. Aimery and Sybil, along with the other top tier thaumaturges but especially them, really never do stray far from where there queen is, rooming in the same wing of the palace as her and little more than a quick message and a few moments away. It makes Sybil’s little problem even more nerve wracking and her rather active imagination has supplied her with no shortage of impossible scenarios to drive her even crazier. Those awful dreams are nothing compared to the waking nightmare that was the quiet little, not quite fantasies, that invade her days with annoying frequency. “It was nothing,” Sybil says, hoping that her voice sounds as casual as she would like it to.  
“It was not nothing, she looked like she was about to kiss you.”  
“Ugh, why would you even suggest something like that?!” Heat rushes to Sybil’s face and wild panic thrums through her veins at the mere thought.  
“I mean it was just...you were so close and, Sybil, you can’t say that you’d really object, can you?” Aimery chuckles, the statement was obviously intended as a joke but it’s so hard to take it as a joke when that second part was so correct.  
“Aimery!” Sybil exclaims, her voice cracking sharply.  
“Oh my stars,” Aimery says with wide eyes, realization striking him like a bus.  
“Don’t-”  
“Sybil,” he breathes, his smile has vanished.  
“Don’t say it.” Sybil runs a hand through her long black hair.  
“You’re-”  
“I am not! I know what you’re about to say and you’re wrong.”  
“No, Sy, I don’t think I am.”  
Sybil runs her hands through her hair again, the urge to cry returning.  
His expression is a mix of shock, pity, and horror. He knows as well as Sybil does that no good will come of these feelings. Little good comes of any feelings at all, which is why they both tried so hard to feel nothing at all. But they did; the felt friendship, fear, pity, love.  
“If you ever tell anyone,” Sybil’s breath shakes as she speaks, “they will never find your body.”  
Aimery chuckles, “Yeah, I’m sure they won’t.”  
A small part of Aimery feels a little bad for pressing the issue, for bringing it up at all. He can see how much Sybil’s losing it over this, how it’s affecting her, how she is affecting her. Sybil is an astoundingly poor liar when it comes to personal matters, unable to detach herself from the situation in a way that she can when she’s lying about other things. Aimery wonders if Levana’s figured it out yet. 

Sybil is terrified of anyone finding out; knowing that Aimery knows keeps her sleep fitful and even more infrequent. Disquieting dreams become nightmares that bleed into her days. she thought nothing could be worse than being in love with the queen and never ever being able to do anything about it, but being in love with the queen and never ever being able to do anything about it and having someone else _know_ was by far a worse fate. She literally trusts Aimery with her life, but paranoia takes hold anyways. It’s awful, she feels awful; sick with desire and almost physically in pain.  
As head thaumaturge she spends even more time around Queen Levana that most, more than Aimery, so much time where it’s just the two of them and Sybil is dying inside and has to pretend like she’s not. Her queen hasn’t asked about her strange behavior since that awkward day in the Solar and Sybil thinks that she is getting better at masking her feelings, though she can never be quite sure and has far too much pride to ever ask Aimery for his opinion.  
Being her favorite place in the palace, they spend a lot of time in the solar; both of them working in silence and times where her queen looks out over the city, as all she has, at the kingdom she rules so well, and Sybil stares at her, pretending like she isn’t longing for her queen’s affections even though she knows she’ll never have them. It’s a cliche, like in the net dramas, it is such a cliche except that this one has no happy ending. It is either always going to be this way or it is going to end badly for Sybil and she knows that she has to get rid of these feelings before she does something stupid. But that is so much harder than it should be.  
She stands at Queen Levana’s side, both of them looking out over the city. Her gaze drops after a moment of admiration of the city to her long sleeves, focussing intently on them and fighting the urge to stare at her queen. There are days where it feels almost easy, days she can retreat into her work and her own frigidity, where she can be the emotionless workaholic that everyone, save for Aimery, thinks she is. But every time she thinks that she’s finally gotten a handle on her feelings she is once again floored by her queen’s beauty or the sound of her voice and it feels like she’s back to square one again.  
“Sybil,” Queen Levana breaks the silence between them and just like the last time, which was quite a while ago, Sybil has to force herself not to start, her grip on her sleeve tightening and loosening quickly.  
“Yes, your majesty?”  
A small smile graces Levana’s face, “My sweet thaumaturge, you have served me so very well over the years.”  
“It has been my honor and my pleasure, my queen.” Sybil smiles too in spite of herself.  
"I'm not the only one who things so. Thaumaturge Park speaks very highly of you, calls you lovable and a joy to work with."  
_Aimery, you bastard_ , Sybil thinks, cursing his name and his way of 'helping'.  
"Are you certain he wasn't being sarcastic?" Sybil says, masking her annoyance.  
"Quite, or if he was he managed to hit the mark quite well, I think."  
Sybil again has to use her glamor to hide her blush. "Your compliments mean everything to me, my queen. I thank you."  
"You have spent most of your life in service of the crown, as a thaumaturge."  
Sybil was named head thaumaturge not very long into Levana's rule and a they have been together ever since. Even before that, she was in service to Levana’s service, as devoted and capable as she is now no matter how much her hard work went unacknowledged.  
"It is my entire life," she says and she means it.  
"Yes, sweet one, and you have done a wonderful job devoting yourself to it."  
There was nothing prohibiting Sybil from doing anything else, from pursuing a life outside of her queen. She knew of other thaumaturges that had spouses, children, and more than a single friend. But for Sybil there was nothing else; there was only Queen Levana, and her duties as head thaumaturge, and her closest and only friend, Aimery Park, and that is how it is always going to be. Sybil has no interest in a life outside of this. It is her whole life for her queen, that is how it is always going to be.  
"This is all that I have ever wanted."  
"Oh?"  
"Yes, to serve you."  
_To just be near you,_ Sybil thinks. _And if I could, to be with you_. But she thinks this very, very quietly so as not to have her true feelings discovered. A very soft smile graces her queen's face and Sybil's gaze fall from her beautiful eyes to her scarlet lips. A vision from one of those many disquieting dreams breaks into Sybil's thoughts at the worst possible moment. Levana's lips on her own, Levana's lips on her neck leaving a trail of red marks in their wake.  
Pull yourself together, Sybil hisses to herself. Don't think like this when she's right in front of you.  
"Sybil," Levana says, shaking her from her thoughts once again.  
"Yes, my queen?"  
"Kneel."  
Sybil does not question her even though she wants to. Instead she sinks to her knees on the smooth white tile, her coat spreading out around her.  
"That's better." Levana wears a little smirk as she smooths Sybil's hair and it takes all of Sybil's rather considerable self-control not to lean into her touch.  
Sybil hears the elevator before the doors open but doesn't dare move, instead she steels herself and hopes that Levana hears it too, hopes that it's not Aimery, hopes that she doesn't look as pathetically needy for her touch as she feels.  
Just as Levana's hand retracts hand, the doors open. She and Levana both turn to see, of course because Sybil has never known the sweet mercy of good luck, it's Aimery, smiling. 

"I mean everyone always does say that you're a lapdog, but stars above, Sybil. On your knees, really?"  
Sybil and Aimery sit at her kitchen table; Sybil with her head in one hand and a stiff drink in the other.  
"You have the worst timing in the galaxy, you know that? Of all the times to interrupt..."  
"Seemed like I was doing you a favor what with that expression."  
"Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Real solid you did me talking about me to her majesty like that, by the way, that’s exactly what I needed in my life."  
"So ungrateful. I thought I was doing you a favor."  
"I told you not to tell anyone."  
"And I didn't, just gave you an innocent compliment."  
Sybil rolls her eyes, "For some reason I don't believe that's the truth."  
"So what was that back there?" Aimery leans forward. "I mean I know what it looked like, but what was actually going on?"  
"I - I don't know. We were just talking and then she told me to and I didn't question it. How did it look?"  
"Sybil it was...it looked like something that would have started some unflattering rumors had it not just been the three of us."  
She sighs through her nose, "One would think that the lunar court and our fellow thaumaturges would have something better to do that stand around and gossip."  
Aimery hums in agreement, knowing of the rumors that fly about him and Sybil. Sybil. Sybil, who has never loved anyone the way that she loves being head thaumaturge, serving the queen. Sybil, who until recently he was quite sure could feel neither affection nor desire for anyone. Aimery, as everyone knew, got around, but Sybil was different, she was his best friend and they have never and would never be like that. That was how it was always going to be.  
"So what now?" Aimery asks.  
Sybil smirks at her drink, "Pretend it never happened?" 

And so that's exactly what Sybil and Aimery did. They spent the next day together at the queen's side; a rare moment of togetherness that wasn't coupled with something unpleasant. But of course it didn't last. Aimery excused himself to go attend to another matter and though he did not actually wink at Sybil as he left, he might as well have.  
They spend almost as much time up in this viewing room as they do in the throne room. But Sybil is hardly complaining. It's nice up here, quiet and the view of the lake is beautiful, her queen is even more so.  
Sybil sits in an armchair near Levana's throne, before he left Aimery was occupying the one on the other side. She works quietly, reading over a report on her portscreen. She absolutely is paying attention to the words her eyes skim over and not caught in the memory of kneeling on that platform yesterday. Her white robes spilling over the steps and Levana's hand on her hair. She had been about to say something, and if not for Aimery and his terrible, torturously awful timing, she would have. Sybil doesn't allow herself to theorize about what it was Levana was going to say, knows that it will only consume her thoughts entirely and that's really saying something given the considerable space the queen occupies in her mind already. She’s totally paying attention to her work. Nevermind the fact that she’s read the same sentence seven times now, none of it sinking in at all with her thoughts wandering. The room is quiet enough that Sybil can hear Levana breathing, can hear herself breathing and she still doesn't know how Levana can't hear her heart beating out of her chest. Or perhaps she can and is just merciful enough to not bring it up.  
If she can help it, Sybil would like to avoid any more incidents between her and Queen Levana. Incidents that are always just shy of satisfying, that always leave her worse off than she was before. Only feed into those awful dreams.  
Her eyes stray to the queen as they always do, drinking in her flawless beauty. She wonders how much she would have to let her guard down for Levana to take notice, is she has already taken notice. There are times when she can feel the queen scraping the surface of her mind. She hasn't the slightest idea if she does it to everyone or if it's just her, she supposes that it doesn't matter.  
Almost as if she summoned it, minutes later Sybil can feel something for him deep within her bones. It's a feeling that she has become familiar with, her queen inside her head. She buries her feelings deeper.  
"You are unfocused, my sweet thaumaturge," Queen Levana says casually, hardly even sparing her a glance. Sybil can still feel her inside her mind and will not let her thoughts stray. "I'm a little distracted, yes." Sybil folds her hands together under her sleeves.  
"And what, pray tell, has caught your attention so?"  
"The view is very pretty; Artemisia shines as brightly as its ruler."  
The queen never pushes deeper into Sybil’s mind than the surface; not that she can’t, not that Sybil would stop her.  
She extends her arm toward Sybil, fingers curling and Sybil rises from her chair. Whether this of her own doing or at her queen controlling her is of no importance. She ascends the few steps to the throne and stands still. They both know that whether Levana controls her or simply tells her to do something Sybil will put up no resistance. She finds herself kneeling next to the throne without intending to, but her mind is still completely lucid. Levana is only scratching the surface, just enough to control her body.  
"I hate having you out of my reach so often, though I do quite like this arrangement." Her majesty takes Sybil's chin in her hand again, tilting her head up.  
"I will do whatever pleases you, my queen," Sybil says, pretending like Levana's fingers on her chin doesn't set fire to her nerves.  
"So very formal."Queen Levana smirks. "We are in private, Sybil. You may call me by my name."  
Sybil's eyes grow wide, she doesn't move a muscle but she does say, "Yes, of course...Levana."  
Levana’s smirk grows and she pulls Sybil’s face up closer to hers until the thaumaturge has to steady herself on the arms of the throne. She is completely frozen without Levana’s guidance; stiff and terrified, terrified of overstepping, terrified of being interrupted again. Levana is still in her head and it doesn’t seem that she has any intentions to let go any time soon. Not that Sybil minds to terribly.  
Under Levana’s control, Sybil leans forward until she and the queen are only inches apart. Her legs shake and she almost wants to lean away right now. Almost. Not that she could even if she wanted to.  
“Sybil…” Levana’s eyes sit at half mast, fixed on her lips.  
“Yes, m- Levana?”  
Levana doesn’t respond, instead she curls her free hand around Sybil’s waist, pressing her further into the white throne.  
Her beautiful eyes, violet today, fix on Sybil’s again, they are green today. This time Sybil does close her eyes.  
Levana still has control over her body; she shifts and braces herself against her queen without intending to. But she knows for a fact that Levana is not manipulating her emotions, this is all that she has ever wanted.  
Levana breaks the kiss first, her glamor still perfectly in place though Sybil’s fell the moment the queen’s lips touched hers. She is still frozen in place, not by Levana’s will but by her own fear. She fears that a single movement will shatter this moment.  
Levana’s hand moves from her face into her hair as she pulls Sybil in for another kiss. She parts the thaumaturge’s lips with her tongue. Sybil’s knees ache from being pressed into the floor and the corner of the throne digs into her front but she is careful not to let her discomfort show. She remains almost perfectly still in that position for some time, until Levana pulls farther back than she had the times before and runs her hand down Sybil’s face.  
She can feel Levana retract from her mind, freeing up her limbs and Sybil realizes just how uncomfortable she is. Still, she doesn't dare move.  
“You can stand up now, pretty one. You’re free to go.”  
Sybil rises slowly and descends the steps to collect her portscreen, smoothing her coat and her hair as she does, summoning her glamor once again.  
“One more thing,” Levana says as Sybil is halfway to the elevator.  
She turns gracefully back toward her queen, “Yes?”  
Levana’s eyes burn into her as she says, “Not a word, Sybil. Not to anyone.”  
Sybil curtseys so lowly that she nearly loses her balance again and as she rises risks another glance at her beautiful queen. “Of course, your majesty.” 

Sybil keeps her promise. Says nothing when she sees Levana again, says nothing the next time they are alone, says nothing when Aimery notes a difference in her, a distinct lack of frustration. She says nothing after the first night Levana invites Sybil up to her chambers. Sybil keeps mostly still and lets Levana call the shots. It is her best kept secret, pressed behind her eyes and her teeth and up her long white sleeves. She keeps the love lodged in her throat between herself and Levana.  
Aimery figures it out in due time, ever the observant one. He says nothing, trusting that Sybil will bring it up on her own or she won’t. He does try very hard not to have, as Sybil said, the worst timing in the entire galaxy. To this day he has yet to interrupt anything between them since those first two times. He is happy for his friend, though he never tells her such; he will not let her know what he has figured out. He simply smiles, and winks so quickly once that he isn’t even sure if she saw it. 

Yes, Sybil Mira was hopelessly in love with her queen. Her queen who trusted in her abilities as head thaumaturge implicitly. Her queen who allowed Sybil to call her by her true name when they were alone. Her queen who kissed her then too.  
Sybil served her queen well; it was her entire life. A life that she loved very, very much. A life that included her queen who was also her lover, her best friend, and absolutely nothing else.  
That was how it was always going to be.


End file.
